


Not A Monster

by LexieCarver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexieCarver/pseuds/LexieCarver
Summary: Song: Hotel CaliforniaKeys: Something misplaced, a secret, time’s running out ( either it actually is, or your characters simply feel that way)Challenge: Setting is outdoorsPairing: Crowley x ReaderBeta: @raspberrymamaWord Count: 772A/N: An angsty short drabble. I played around a little with ghosts and souls in canon, just go with me. This was written for @coltsandquill’s Challenge. Italics=past





	

[Also posted on my Tumblr-](http://roxy-davenport.tumblr.com/post/159587406381/not-a-monster)

 

You were on a dark deserted highway, cool wind in your hair, warm scent of colitas wafting into the car from the open window. You were sitting in the backseat of the Impala happy to be on the way back from a grueling hunt. Dean turned on “Hotel California,” and you knew better than to argue with him. You looked at the dashboard wistfully as the song played, Dean was jamming out to it and Sam had a soft smile on his face, happy that you all were listening to something other than AC/DC. But this song held a secret, a truth that no one especially the Winchesters could ever know about.

 

You were a hunter almost all your life, Always had a need to save others even since your folks were killed by demons when you were just a little girl. But one hunt went bad, as they sometimes do, and you had no backup. You died in the forest, along the road, outside next to nature, a stupid werewolf standing over your bleeding form. And then boom! You find yourself floating, stuck in a hotel with ghosts telling you, “You can check out any time you like but you can never leave.”

 

_Dying sucked, but this was Hell or Hell adjacent. You quickly caught onto what they meant. The house acted like a beacon and attracted lost souls for miles. They all got sucked into the house to be used as a power source for the King of Hell, or so a random demon said. The days wore on with no meaning or substance and each day, the ghosts including you, felt weaker as the energy their souls contained got pulled from their bodies._

 

_You hated to be the damsel in distress but it was awfully hard to kick ass as a ghost. Not to mention the whole death echo thing, which meant each ghost relived how they died, over and over again. The demon claimed the fear made the soul’s energy stronger. There were no doors, no bright lights, just other lost souls in a hotel on a dark desert highway._

 

_A day later, a tailored man in a suit came into the hotel eyeing you curiously. Before you knew it, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the hotel forcibly. He teleported you back to your body and kissed you awake. You woke up ready to fight, knife in hand._

 

_“Is that any way to treat your rescuer, pet? The least you could do is not attempt to kill me -- not that you could with that rusty pig sticker -- but all the same.”_

 

_“How did you save me?” you asked, slightly lowering your knife a tiny bit._

 

_“I have a personal relationship with death,” Crowley said with a smirk_

 

_“Why?”_

 

_“I’m your soulmate, love, the King of Hell. I felt your distress while I was conducting a meeting and as I got closer, the call got stronger. I apologize, darling, I was not aware I even had a soulmate and had I known, I would have prevented what happened but in the jostling between death and being used as a power source, your soul is missing, shall we say. You have about ¼ of it; the rest was used to power Hell. Not quite sure how to get it back for you.”_

 

_So here you were, sitting in a car with his enemies. You wore a mask pretending to feel. You knew that if the Winchesters knew your secret, they’d kill you, hunt you like the monster you didn’t think you were. You helped people whether you had a soul or not. You weren’t a monster. You refused to be a monster. Did your attraction to Crowley exist because you didn’t have a soul? With a soul, you always liked Dean, but now you craved Crowley’s darkness, the way he held you beneath him, the rough way he handled you, kissed you? Would Crowley even bother to find your soul?_

_“No need to thank me love or do anything. Just know you’re mine. Go gallivanting with the Winchesters if you must. But when I call, you will answer.”_

 

_You nodded._

 

“Hey space cadet. You sure you’re okay. Every time you listen to this song, you go somewhere.”

 

“It’s a very evocative song, Dean. Can you really blame a hot girl for a vivid imagination?”

 

That changed the subject. He clenched his jaw and smirked at you. Your secret was safe. You weren’t a monster. You were just a woman lost on a desert highway, trying to find your way back to what being human meant.


End file.
